Rogue Hunter
Gaia #1
Into the Abyss
by
Kevis Hendrickson
This is a work of fiction. The events and characters described herein are imaginary and are not intended to refer to specific places or living persons. The opinions expressed in this manuscript are solely the opinions of the author and do not represent the opinions or any third-party publishers.
Rogue Hunter: Gaia: Into the Abyss
All Rights Reserved.
Copyright © 2009 Kevis Hendrickson
Smashwords Edition
Cover illustration © Morgan Bishop. All rights reserved – used with permission.
Rogue Hunter Logo © Ryan Hawkins. All rights reserved – used with permission.
Preview illustration #1 © Ryan Hawkins. All rights reserved – used with permission.
Preview illustration #2 © Ryan Hertanto. All rights reserved – used with permission.
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Dedication
To Mindy
Acknowledgements
A quick shout out to all the people who helped this book to see the light of day. I want to thank Mindy Schwartz for her wonderful contribution to this story. You were the inspiration behind this book. Thanks also to Marise Ghorayeb for being the extra pair of eyes I desperately needed. I cannot thank my editor Alicia Costello enough for helping to bring order to chaos. Much respect to Rick Royster for being the fine teeth comb that can make any story better. Last but not least, I want to thank Morgan Bishop for creating the exciting book cover. No contribution to the publication of this book went unnoticed or unappreciated.
When you look long into an abyss, the abyss looks into you.
—Friedrich Nietzsche
Into the Abyss
Chapter One
High above the viridian oceans of Taklaylon Alpha, a shrieking comet split the indigo sky and announced itself with a brazen flourish, leaving behind a brilliant streak of crimson-gold. The primitive mariners who inhabited Taklaylon Alpha called such celestial sights Makki or ‘Serpent’s Flame’. Makki was the messenger of the Gods and the harbinger of doom that often rained down death and destruction upon the unsuspecting people of the world. But unknown to the mariners who observed the fireball descending through the sky now, the Gods had not sent this Makki. The burning cloud of ash and dust plunged from heaven, booming into the sea.
Beneath the foaming waves of the Mantikaas Ocean, the comet began to burst apart as something large and metallic pushed its way out of its fuming core. A plume of what appeared to be angry mechanical serpents suddenly tore through the comet’s charred skin, afterwards blossoming into a silvery squid with long, flailing tentacles. Having shed the exfoliating carcass of the comet, the mechanical squid ejected a cloud of dark ink, concealing its torpedo-shaped body as it propelled through the water. The squid descended into the unfathomable deep of the ocean until it came within range of a large base. A surreal glow of faintest turquoise came from the base created by the exterior lights that shone like the sun through stained glass. Upon close inspection, the base revealed itself to be a collection of pea-pod shaped towers arranged in a circle around a large central tower that rose several hundred feet above the ocean floor. Each tower, capped with a saucer-shaped command center, was a functional refinery which processed precious metals mined from below the sea crust.
The squid, fully enveloped in its ink cloud, used its suckers to attach itself to one of the telescope-shaped storage towers extending from the nether regions of the base, and began penetrating the thick metal walls with searing heat from its underbody. The water frothed beneath the squid as it labored to breach the tower. When the squid burned a large enough hole, it ejected a large silver capsule from its innards into the gaping, hot gash in the tower. Its task was now complete. The robotic squid released its grip and swam away from the base into the unfathomable depths of the ocean deep seeking its watery grave.
#
The discarded metal capsule abandoned by the squid, drifted down slowly into the blackness of the primary water exchange within the tower. The capsule—or cocoon—carried a young woman who, somewhere between life and death, slept, unaware of anything except the dreams that haunted her unquiet soul. The cocoon’s heating system activated. Her body temperature quickly rose from sub-thermal levels until the ice thawed from her face, revealing her pale, ashen complexion and stark golden eyebrows.
As her blood warmed and respiration restored, the young woman began to stir. The minutes ticked off slowly as the thawing process continued. The internal system’s chronometer blipped softly as it struck zero. The cocoon’s hatch opened, flooding the inner chamber with water; ejecting its occupant into the watery darkness. She drifted downwards in a near lifeless state. A few seconds passed before the young woman suddenly awoke from her deep slumber. A deadly fright overcame her as she realized she could not breathe and her lungs filled with water. The young woman, uncertain which way would lead her to the surface, followed the bubbles of air escaping her lungs. It took all the strength she had to force her stiff, frozen limbs to propel her through the water. Every part of her body cried out in agony as she strove against the black liquid void around her.
The darkness was suffocating; it drove her mad. To breathe again was all that mattered. She could nearly taste the air. She hungered for it. One breath. Life or death. The young woman felt the air leave her lungs as black spider webs stole across her vision. Swim or die. The darkness grew deeper. Pain wracked her senses. As she clawed for the surface, desperate for air, the young woman acknowledged the inevitability of her death. Yes, I’ll die, she thought, but it won’t be today.
Chapter Two
At the head of the oval table in the center of a large conference room, Admiral Henry Forsythe sat quietly in his chair, listening to the concerns of his senior staff of military advisors. This meeting, shrouded in secrecy and weighted with importance, frustrated him. The uneasy looks from his subordinates unnerved the stern Admiral. Forsythe’s face flushed hot and scarlet as he pressed his thick, stubby fingers together.
“So, Commander Billick, are we to believe that this plan has any chance of succeeding?” Forsythe asked crossly.
“We have seen to every detail, Sir. The President himself has endorsed it,” Commander Jon Billick answered, his voice equally unsettled. He fumbled, but cleared his throat to speak, beads of sweat lining his wrinkled brow. “However, I believe the President was hasty to agree to this course of action when so much depends on its outcome. I wonder at the wisdom of it.”
“So do I,” Forsythe replied.
“With all due respect, Admiral, considering our options, she was the best choice,” interjected General Talib Kifimbo, his deep, basso voice clear and resolute. “That sector is infested with pirates. We would have to shoot our way through every quarter inch of space to get within even a hundred thousand light years of Taklaylon Alpha.”
Admiral Forsythe studied the dark features of Gen
eral Kifimbo. The General understood the need for tact. Where others used brute force to overcome a challenge, Kifimbo used subtler means. Even his much lauded pragmatism failed to persuade Forsythe.
“I understand the need for action, General. This is a matter of utmost importance. The security of the Alliance hangs in the balance. But the President acted prematurely, if not outright recklessly, to commit such responsibilities to an unsavory character,” said Admiral Forsythe, the deep rumble in his voice betraying his attempt to control his rising anger.
“Like so many others here, I share your concern, Admiral, and also feel that our President has entrusted our fate to a notorious rogue,” said General Saii Vidigen, a blue-skinned Ratarran. “But what choice do we have? Our only alternative is to enter Kleelon space with our entire armada. Surely you can see the wisdom in deferring to a less gaudy display of our force. If the Xorghkans ever found out that we have ignored the treaty to build a new fleet of warships, we will have a full scale war on our hands.”
General Padraic Sheehan, who sat directly across the table from Admiral Forsythe, cried, “I agree with Commander Vidigen. A permanent cessation to the war has to be our ultimate goal. We cannot risk angering the Xorghkans!”
This discourse upset a man sitting near Sheehan. He stood up, knocking down his seat to accost Sheehan.
“How long will we remain silent with the enemy’s bayonet pointed to our throats? Our new fleet is state of the art. We are much stronger than the Xorghkans realize. If it comes to resuming hostilities against their kind, I will personally lead the charge against them!”
“And I will happily join you, Captain Blaylock,” said Sheehan, also rising angrily from his chair. “I am eager to restore the honor of our esteemed military, but I have not yet forgotten our defeat at Corus Ni. I would urge the rest of you gentleman to remember it as well.”
“Agree or disagree, what does it matter? President Upshaw has made his decision and we must abide by it. Anything less would be treason,” interrupted a calm, wiry-limbed Treeban General, emphasizing his words with a pronounced cluck.
“I have heard enough!” Admiral Forsythe bellowed, suddenly lifting his large frame from his chair. “This decision was made without my consent. Yet, I will not show disloyalty to our elected leader and his wisdom. However, I am aware that one of you here is responsible for cooking up this half-baked scheme. I will have you know this: The next man who dares to circumvent my leadership in an attempt to gain the president’s favors will find himself on the wrong end of a torpedo tube. I trust that you men will be more sensible in the future.”
The officers all avoided the Admiral’s fiery glare, but he raged nonetheless. “I will add this caveat. If this bounty hunter fails to bring back the stolen cylinder, I promise that every one of you sons of whores who agreed to this mission will wish you had never been born. Dis-MISSED!”
Admiral Forsythe ignored the nervous tension in the air and stormed out of the conference room with a wide grimace. No one dared to get in his way. Forsythe stomped to his Ready Room and slammed an angry fist into the star chart on the wall. Fortunately for his hand, the chart was a holographic image and not made of glass. The door opened to his room, interrupting his hoarse, infuriated huffing. Forsythe spun around, eyes blazing, to see a bald man escorted by a tall, purple alien wearing a beard made of scabby tentacles.
“Bloody brilliant speech you made out there, Admiral. But you should know such threats are unbecoming of an officer, especially one as highly decorated as yourself,” said the bald man. A pair of cybernetic implants wrapped around his clean shaven head flashed a brilliant array of colors.
“You have some nerve coming in here after what you pulled, Devlin,” spewed Forsythe. General Anton Devlin was the last man in the galaxy Forsythe wanted to see right now. Devlin was a man whose ambitions knew no boundaries. Though a career military officer, Devlin had set his sights on much loftier positions of power within the government. He had recently befriended the President and had no qualms about using his new found influence in order to get his way. There was nothing or no one he wouldn’t sacrifice in order to acquire the power he coveted. As far as Forsythe was concerned, Devlin was the worst sort of soldier imaginable. A man like Devlin should never be entrusted with the lives of others. Everything about Devlin offended Forsythe. It took all the self control he could muster to keep from beating the man to a bloody pulp. Forsythe noticed Devlin’s implants turning a vibrant blue as he straightened his military jacket, making sure his many medals flashed in the dim light.
“I want to make certain you understand the situation, Admiral. You have no say in this operation. The President himself appointed me liaison between the Government and our little bounty hunter friend.”
“This damned operation is going to get us all killed! Only a fool like you would ever think to trust a maniac bounty hunter!”
“You lack vision. You have spent far too much time patting yourself on the back for your past accomplishments; you fail to see that others possess skills you do not, nor ever will.”
“That bounty hunter is a bloodthirsty murderer who kills for pleasure! Those are not the skills needed for this operation.”
“It is precisely what is needed! Commander Black will not hesitate to use the contents of that cylinder against us. To kill a savage, one must use a savage.”
“This isn’t about Commander Black or the cylinder. You are planning something, Devlin. But I’m watching you closely. If you even get a hair out of place—”
“No need to threaten me again, Admiral,” Devlin said, casting aside his stately demeanor for a more hostile one. “I am certain the President will be happy to know you have such confidence in his plan. You are simply afraid to admit that you’re too old for this job. Capable men such as myself are ready to assume responsibility should you become a victim of a regime change.”
“Over my dead body.”
“Such a thing can be arranged.”
General Devlin turned to make his way to the front of the ready room with his escort. He stopped just short of the exit and gave Forsythe a carefree stare. “By the way, Admiral, I informed our distinguished President that the decision to use the bounty hunter was your idea.”
With a cool, but sinister grin, General Devlin glided out of the room. Forsythe balled his fists at his side trembling with rage as he contemplated Devlin’s words. He was certain nothing good would ever come of trusting a bounty hunter. As far as he was concerned, the mission had already failed, and he would be the one to take the fall for it.
Chapter Three
Zyra Zanr broke through the surface of the freezing water with a loud gasp. Although she was thankful to breathe air again, the burning sensation in her lungs did not leave. She fought through her fatigue, swimming to the edge of a metal plank that led from the black pool. She roughly dragged herself onto solid ground. Still unbalanced, she expelled the neon-blue colored cryoprotectant fluid from her stomach and lungs through her mouth. Zyra, bent over in agony, squeezed her belly as she endured a long bout of purging her body of more of the bluish fluid.
No matter how many times Zyra had experienced the cryo-chamber, she felt she would never get used to having her body filled with the revolting chemicals, even though they proved necessary to survive the cryo-freezing process. When the last of the cryoprotectant was ejected from her body, she dropped to her side, violently shivering. It would take time for her body to regain its normal temperature. The pain caused by her thawing body tormented her, red hot needles deeply pricked into her flesh all over. Time blurred as she succumbed to darkness.
#
Zyra awoke to find herself overcome with an uncontrollable quiver. How long had she been unconscious? Minutes? Hours? Days? She had blacked out more than once only to find herself stifled with unimaginable pain. She was lucky to have survived the thawing process, but the deep chill in her body would remain until she could procure some clothing. Unfortunately, the mind-numbing cold was the least of
her concerns.
Zyra rose with effort from the cold floor. It took some effort to steady herself. Every step she took away from the black pool behind her was a challenge. But nothing would stop Zyra from accomplishing what she had come to do. She had been sent to Taklaylon Alpha for the sole purpose of recovering an item very precious to the InterGalactic Alliance. The item was a mystery to her; she only knew it was stolen by a dangerous fugitive familiar to Zyra:
Molly Black.
Molly was the reason why the Alliance had sent Zyra to this remote and mostly uninhabited world. Whatever Molly had taken from the Alliance, it must have held great importance.
It might have been arrogant for her to admit it, but Zyra prided herself on being the greatest bounty hunter in the Draeda Galaxy. Her exploits took her to the edge of space and back. She captured hundreds of fugitives in only a few short years. Hence, it did not altogether surprise her that the Alliance decided to send her to capture Molly.
Still, Zyra proved something of an embarrassment for her current employer. The more fugitives Zyra apprehended, the more incompetent the authorities looked. Zyra so effectively caught criminals, she often had to bring them in several at a time, piling them up in her ship’s brig as she went after more fugitives. Both the Military High Command and the InterGalactic Police despised her. Until this mission, the authorities never requested her for a job.
She used traditional means in order to find fugitives, browsing the IGP Emergency Broad beam Alerts and Most Wanted data feeds looking for the usual suspects: bail runners, terrorists, thieves, rapists, murderers, and the like. It shocked her to learn that the President himself requested her for this job. Zyra knew a number of senior military officers were unhappy with the President’s decision.
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